


Birthday Present

by roxyeisen



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Missing Scene, Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 08:35:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13900308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roxyeisen/pseuds/roxyeisen
Summary: Missing scene. Happens sometime after Millennium and before All Things. Mulder gives Scully an unforgettable birthday present, kind of like the "Hips before Hands" gift.*Remember the good old days of fanfic when we gleefully played around with Mulder/Scully UST? That's my only goal here, I'm just going to admit it. And obviously this must have happened at some point, probably more than once, but of course, we weren't allowed to see it or know about it because of our overly secretive OTP and their creator.*





	Birthday Present

“You’re quiet today,” Mulder finally acknowledges. I look up quickly from my place at the counter in the back of the office where I’m working through a huge stack of paperwork that’s been building up.

“I don’t want this over my head during the weekend,” I say as I return to work. “One of us has to do the paperwork.”

“You’re so good at it.” Mulder tosses his basketball up in the air a few times as he reclines, his feet on his desk. “Do you have plans or something?”

I glance at him. “Most of us do, Mulder. There’s a birthday party at JJ’s bar tonight. For Skinner?”

Mulder sighs. It’s long and drawn out. Irritating.

“You know, he’s done a lot for us. Put himself on the line. It wouldn’t hurt for you to go. Show your respect.”

“He knows I respect him without having to sit and pretend to socialize for three hours.” Mulder makes a sound like he’s choking on something distasteful.

It’s my turn to sigh. “I think you’re being selfish.”

I can’t concentrate on the paperwork anymore, so I decide to leave it. I stand up and come to take my suit jacket off the back of the chair he’s in. “What are you going to do tonight, Mulder? Do you have big Friday night plans?”

“The Gunmen invited me over to watch some documentary they’re all about lately.” He stops tossing the basketball in the air long enough to help me with my jacket.

“Thanks,” I say, making my face as neutral as possible even though I’m affected by his gesture, like I always am lately. Ever since that confounded New Year’s kiss. What was that supposed to mean? And why don’t we ever mention it? That tells me it either meant nothing or it meant way more than he’s prepared to talk about. I don’t think it’s fair the way he’s been flirting with me lately either. I know he doesn’t think I pick up on that kind of thing, but there’s no denying he’s been a little friendlier than he ever has before.

Though I admit, it doesn’t keep me from flirting back. 

I stand close to him as long as I dare, breathing in his scent and letting my arm brush his as he throws the basketball in the air. I’m tempted to catch the ball and toss it in the corner and make him pay attention to me, but I’m not prepared to take either his rejection or whatever the opposite of that might be.

“I’m leaving,” I say, heading for the door. He follows me, grabbing his own suit jacket and flipping off the light. I look back. “Where are you going?”

“With you,” he says, as if that had been the plan all along and I’m not keeping up. I raise an eyebrow, but I don’t question it. And as we wait for the elevator, his hand is warm on my lower back. He does that a lot lately. He always has, but it seems more deliberate these days. “What did we get Skinner?”

I shoot him a glare as we get on the elevator. “I got him a gift card to that pub he likes, and a meaningful card. Like a friend would.”

“Come on, Scully, let me sign it. I’ll pay for half.”

“You still owe me for lunch last Saturday and that junk food you had to have in California last week, when we were on assignment and you didn’t have any cash in the motel?”

“I’m keeping a tab. I won’t forget.”

I hand him the card, but I make sure he knows I disapprove.

We walk to the bar, since it’s only around the corner. The night is warm for late February. I wonder if Mulder will remember my birthday this year. He’s already three days late and I’m not hopeful. It wouldn’t take much. I’d be happy with another baseball lesson. _Hips before hands._

I glance down at our hands as we walk. I’m a little bit like a high schooler lately when it comes to physical contact with Mulder. We’ve always been “touchy” as partners. Never shy about briefly holding hands or hugging when the moment is right. But now I keep hoping he’ll do these things for no reason. Ever since that kiss.

Our hands brush as we turn the corner. He glances at me, sees I’m looking at him. He smiles his lopsided grin, quizzical. He wonders what I’m thinking about. I look away before he reads my thoughts as he is prone to do. He opens the door to the bar for me, and I walk past without a word.

Skinner is sitting in a booth with a beer, surrounded by agents. Some are kissing butt; some are more focused on the food and alcohol. He lifts a hand and waves, and I set his card down on the table with the other cards.

“Get something to drink,” he says, pointing at the bar. I smile and nod. Trail Mulder to the bar.

I’m suddenly very glad Mulder decided to come. I don’t know what I would have done with myself if he hadn’t. I don’t know anyone here besides Skinner. The faces are familiar, but no one I’d call a friend or even a colleague. And there are plenty of people staring at us. Some mocking. Some quite obviously talking about us, looking up at me every now and then.

Not quite consciously, I lean pretty close to Mulder. All the seats are taken at the bar and in Skinner’s close proximity, so we end up at a table for two near the back of the room. Mulder orders us beers and burgers. I wonder for a moment if I’ll be paying for those, too. 

He smirks at me as if he can read my thoughts, which I’m convinced by now he can. “I have a credit card.”

“Wonders never cease.” I raise my eyebrows and send him a rather coy look before I realize he’ll probably take it as flirting. He smiles. Doesn’t seem to mind.

The food is good. After a beer I start to relax and forget about the gossiping colleagues around us. Mulder leans over the small table so far that his hand rests against my side. I don’t know if he does it on purpose or if he’s just that long and lanky that he doesn’t fit on one side of the table. I’m not complaining, though. I lean against his hand as if I have no other choice since it’s there. After he finishes his beer, his fingers are moving slightly, up and down my side.

“Scully, there’s a guy at the bar who’s been watching you since you came in.” Mulder says under his breath as he sets down his bottle.

I immediately assume he means we are in some sort of peril. My adrenaline starts to pump, and my hand goes to my weapon. He chuckles and his hand stops mine. “I just meant he’s checking you out.”

“Oh,” I drop my hand and lean back against his again, glancing to the bar. The man’s not bad looking. He’s youngish and clean cut. The kind of guy I might give my number to. But only to make Mulder jealous.

I don’t say anything else and he goes on to talk about some wacky theory having to do with quantum physics that I’m only half listening to as the alcohol settles my brain in a slight fog. I watch the way his mouth moves as he speaks. I look at his hair, neatly styled. Mulder might be a bit of a slob, but he’s always cared what his hair looks like. And I’ve always appreciated the effort.

“You’re not listening to me.” Mulder doesn’t sound offended. He’s just making an observation. “You want to go talk to that guy, don’t you?”

I breathe a laugh. “No way.”

“He’s still watching you. It’s not too late.”

“Not interested.”

“What was it Padgett said?” Mulder’s fingers hold my side with more pressure. Like he meant to do it. “Agent Scully can’t fall in love because she is already in love?”

I feel my cheeks blush and curse my red hair and pale complexion for it. There’s never hiding anything from him. “I told you I had no idea what he meant by that, Mulder.” I take a long drink and look back at the guy, who is watching me quite obviously. He smiles a little bit. 

“That’s bold,” I say to Mulder. “He’s smiling at me even while I sit here with you.”

“Are we together like that?” Mulder asks, feigning innocence. Suddenly I wonder if his arm is around me because he’s trying to give the other guy a notice to stay away from me. I hope it’s true.

“He’s starting to creep me out.” I stand and pull on my jacket. “Can we get out of here?”

Mulder nods and goes to pay our bill. As I walk by, the man lightly grabs my wrist. “Hey, are you Agent Scully?”

I pull my wrist free and nod with a fake, uncomfortable smile. “And you are?”

“Agent Michaels. My partner told me to keep my eyes out for the gorgeous redhead and I think I found you. Can I get your number?”

I feel Mulder come up behind me, and suddenly I’m the bold one. I turn and look him in the eye. Give him one of those looks we share sometimes, where it seems like he’s reading my mind. He gives an imperceptible nod and the smile is pulling at the side of his mouth.

“What do you think, honey,” I say, surprising myself as much as the guy sitting at the bar holding out a pen. “Can he have my number?”

Mulder puts his arm around me. Possessively. His hand curls around my side just above my hip. “I think that would make me jealous. And I’m armed.”

I try not to giggle as the man’s expression – and his pen – fall. Mulder leads me out of the bar like that, his hand firmly against the curve of my side. We wave goodbye to Skinner, who smirks at our stance and raises his bottle in farewell.

“Looks like Spooky and the Mrs. are leaving early tonight,” the guy next to Skinner jokes loudly. 

A chorus of “Good night, Mr. and Mrs. Spooky” rings out as we leave the bar. My face is on fire again. 

“You shouldn’t let it get to you, Scully.” Mulder doesn’t speak until we are back in the parking garage and at our cars, which are parked next to each other, as always. It’s only convenient, after all. “We’ve been Mr. and Mrs. Spooky for seven years.”

His voice is soft and meant only for me, and it makes me feel warm inside, even more than the alcohol. I don’t want to leave just yet. I lean against my car and try to think of something interesting to say that will make him stay a few more minutes.

Should I bring up that kiss now? Is he relaxed enough that he’d discuss it with me? Tell me what it meant? I know we don’t talk about those things. We don’t talk about our relationship, especially if something happens between us. It’s just our way. But I really want to know what was going through his mind when he decided to kiss me two months ago, for the first time in seven years. Yes, he tried to kiss me once before, but that was different. I was leaving. He was desperate to convince me to stay. And the bee had other plans anyway. He hadn’t tried it since, and then out of nowhere, he kisses me to ring in the New Year. For no apparent reason. I don’t understand.

He’ll get squirrely if I try to talk about it. Better to flirt, I figure. I glance at his mouth, which is as full and inviting as ever, and then I give him a good long gaze. Maybe he’ll read my mind this time. Maybe he’ll sneak another kiss. I would never initiate it myself. It would be more out of character for me and I’d have more explaining to do. But that doesn’t mean I’d stop him if he tried.

“Agent Scully is already in love,” he says again, musing. And then my heart drops down into my stomach as he steps forward, deliberately, two big steps. His body lightly presses mine against my car. Electricity buzzes in my brain and I gasp as I look up expectantly, wondering what he’ll do next.

He looks around the parking garage before he does anything else. I don’t blame him. We’re the subject of several polls on the cafeteria bulletin board. People have put money on whether or not someone will catch us in the act. As a result we’ve had several people enter our office without knocking. They were all disappointed. Every time we were either engaged in an argument, or I was doing paperwork while he goofed off. 

When he looks back at me, his face has that amused expression he had right after he kissed me on New Year’s Eve. As if he knows it’s a dangerous game he’s playing, but he’s trusting I’ll understand. I understand well enough. I just need proof. To confirm my suspicions that things have changed. Even just a little. 

He looks at me for a long time before he moves, and I patiently wait. His expression goes from amused to uncertain. As if what he’s about to do scares him as much as he’s afraid it will scare me. He looks a little like he’s pleading. I read his thoughts. _Please don’t take this the wrong way. Please don’t ask more of me than I’m prepared to give. Please don’t let this change anything between us. I need you._

But he comes to me in spite of the hesitation I sense. Awkwardly at first, as if he’s a teenager stealing his first kiss. His lips are tentative, pressing against mine almost curiously. I revel in the softness rolled up together with the firmness. The moisture. The salty taste of French fries on his mouth and the sweet smell of beer breath. This time he lingers a little longer than he did on New Years’ Eve. His pressure is a little firmer. He parts my lips and gives me an unmistakably non-platonic kiss, just so there’s no question. He wants me to know this time – it’s not just as a friend. He wants me to know he’s been feeling all those same feelings I have. Maybe he even knows who Agent Scully is in love with.

I want to stay in that moment, pressed up against the car and experiencing the gentle warmth of his mouth for many more seconds than I actually get. Soon enough, he pulls back with a soft sigh, gives me one of those pained looks that says he is choosing self-control because of bigger reasons than his immediate desires, not because he doesn’t want to explore this further.

“Thanks for convincing me to go with you tonight,” he says softly, still close to me, still holding my sides. “It was worth it.”

Then he’s gone. He’s in his car and pulling out, even though I know he won’t actually leave the parking garage until I am safely locked inside my car as well. I don’t linger. I don’t want him to think that kiss affected me too deeply. I’ll scare him off. I know what he’s afraid of, even as things begin to change between us. He’s scared this will get in the way of that more important bond we have. 

We won’t let it. We can have both. We’ll just take it slow. 

He lowers the passenger window and looks at me, and I almost wonder if I see sadness in his expression. Like he’s losing something the same time he’s gaining something else. 

“Happy birthday, Scully.”


End file.
